They Are
by VirgoMaiden
Summary: Ron/Hermione. Their thoughts on one another: insecurities, doubts, frustrations, and hope. Spoils for books 1 through 7. Written 1 year prior to published date.
1. Hermione

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing.

**A/N:** My first try at a serious Ron/Hermione fic.

------------------------

**The Lines Defining Us**

Ron can be stupid.

Foolish.

Insensitive.

Cruel.

He uses "colorful language" at least every half-hour.

He has absolutely no motivation.

His attitude (and IQ) are probably the same as his shoe size.

He obsesses with Quidditch to the point where it's absolutely incurable.

His love for the Chuddly Cannons is near-fanatic, and I wonder how he has managed to keep it up all the years they were slaughtered.

He dates girls that are the furthest thing from 'decent.' (Lavender Brown, anyone?)

They (the girls) have long legs and a large chest.

Their hair is silky straight and smooth (not bushy).

Their teeth are perfectly white (not large and beaver-like, even with the help of Madam Pomfrey and my parents.).

His temper clashes with mine constantly and sometimes I can't help but wonder if he _hates_ me.

Like, for example, when Crookshanks "ate" Scabbers.

Or when I sent those canaries after him (even though it was justified!).

And the Yule Ball episode?

Oh, lord…

How could Viktor Krum, his bloody _hero_, make this…rift between us?

_He_ defined the line that I know that we will never be able to cross, no matter if we finally make sense of how we feel for each other.

The line of What We Are and Something More.

How much we may want it…

How much we may want each other.

And I know I'm being delusional, instead of my cold, calculating self.

But I can't help that feeling, that when we were at Dumbledore's funeral…When I cried, and he "teared up"…When he held me for those minutes (or were they hours?)…I felt as if we were the only people in the world. Nothing else mattered. Not the war, not the impending doom, not Volde-Volde-(oh, blast it all)_ Voldemort._

I felt like we, for some odd minute, were Meant to Be.

And I know it sounds stupid…

But I hope—deep in my heart hope—that he somehow feels the same.

---------

**A/N:** Reviews are love and Constructive Criticism is DEEPLY appreciated.

-VM


	2. Ron

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing.

**A/N:** My first attempt at a serious RonxHermione fic. Please treat kindly. If not, I'll take it as a lesson.

------------------------

**The Lines Defining Us**

Hermione…can be bossy.

Obsessive.

Maniacal.

And_ bloody_ confusing.

She's always so neat and prim. And orderly, too. Seriously, her notes are _always_ together, she knows what assignment's due when, and what the requirements are…

And she's so bookish, to the point where I sometimes think that she'd be perfectly content to be completely without human contact, just as long as she could have her personal copy of _Hogwarts, a History._

She's an overachiever.

And, good god, if there's a spell she can't figure out, introduce me to the bugger who invented it, because he has caused Hell to freeze over. (But mark my words, she'll find a way to figure it out)

But she's so _insecure_.

About her looks.

Lineage.

Her daily habits, study-related and non.

Hell, sometimes about _how_ she talks, or what she talks _about_.

However, she says she only dates _good_ Quidditch players.

I'll bet she only likes them too.

Don't believe me? Example: Cormac McLaggen. Decent player, no? _Certainly_ better than me.

Oh, _here's_ one that knocked me _right_ out of the running:

Viktor Krum.

Yes, _Viktor Krum._ The seeker for _bloody Bulgaria_, who caught the Snitch at the _World Cup_ in our fourth year.

In our fourth year, he was also named the _champion_ for _Drumstrang_, and was one of the four contestants for the _Twiwizard Tournament_.

And then, the bugger goes and asks Hermione to the Yule Ball.

Really, what did I expect? That even though a world-class winner asked _her—_therefore making her susceptibleto surround herself in finery galore and be _just _as rich as the Malfoys—she'd still choose _me,_ a world-class _loser_?

Sometimes, I think I must live in a fantasy world. Because, quite honestly, I don't think that's ever happen.

And even though I dated Lavender in sixth year, causing her (Hermione) not to speak to me for most of that year, I regret nothing. I showed her how I could be: A winner who gets the Cup and a gorgeous girl. A guy that's a pretty decent catch. A bloke who _wants_ a _girl_.

But that's because the girl (Lavender) came to _me_. I never made a move before she approached me, and I suppose I was sore from her kissing Krum…(kissing _Krum_!)

And she told me she had done no such thing—Well that's just bullocks!

But, when I was poisoned…_she _came to see me. With—get this—_tears_. She actually _cried_ next to me when she thought I was asleep on medication.

Hermione and I _really_ have to stop understanding each other when one of us is in the Hospital Wing.

I realize she may never feel the same, or see me the way I see her…

But I'll be damned if I never get this off my chest.

---------

**A/N: **End. Hope it was enjoyable for y'all.

-VM


End file.
